


to have faith (is to have wings)

by wollfgang



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fics [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Bottom Lucifer, Chloe gets in over her head but it all works out okay, F/M, Frottage, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Top Chloe, Tumblr Prompt, What the fuck even is this, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Wingfic, a massage gets out of hand, lets stick a pretty title on it and call it good, thats not a pun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: Chloe offers Lucifer a massage with (somewhat) unexpected results.





	to have faith (is to have wings)

**Author's Note:**

> yep i dunno what this is, enjoy some hastily written wing smut

Since discovering the truth about him - devil, angel wings, and all - things had been _different_. Not in a bad way, either. Like they were drifting towards something. No rush to the finish line, both of them enjoying the journey to get there. 

He'd been so grateful when she took learning his secret in stride. Doubly so when they found out Trixie knew all along, but waited for everyone else to figure it out on their own. 

In exchange for keeping quiet, her daughter had wanted Lucifer to take her flying. Chloe had been against it at first, but Lucifer had reassured her that his supernatural strength could hold as much as a car in flight. She refused until they both agreed to some sort of harness. 

They'd planned it for today, after work, but before the weekend. Trixie is cooperating, standing on a chair so she can be buckled against Lucifer's chest. Chloe had worried about some sort of sex toy becoming repurposed, but Lucifer had somehow gotten his hands on the same things skydivers use. Thick, heavy straps that will easily bear Trixie’s weight.

Once Trixie is strapped down, Lucifer jumps up and down to prove the hold while she giggles madly. With everyone happy with the secure fit, Lucifer walks them out to the edge of the balcony. 

“Ready?” he asks. Chloe can hear her daughter’s affirmative shout. Then he pulls his wings out, large and majestic. Chloe gasps quietly from where she watches, still not used to the sight. Lucifer flaps once, twice, and then throws them into the air. 

Even with all their precautions, Chloe's heart still leaps into her throat. But then Lucifer soars, in high lazy circles before he dives. Chloe can hear the happy shriek of Trixie all the way from where she stands. 

Lucifer does tricks and maneuvers through the air like he was made for it. Chloe shakes her head at herself. He _was_ made for it. Eventually, it's too bothersome to crane her neck to look up at them. Chloe locates one the pool chairs, laying back to watch. Lucifer plays with gravity, Trixie screaming in delight. They only come down when Chloe calls for them. Dan is arriving to take Trixie for the weekend soon. 

Lucifer descends with slow spirals, but still has to beat his wings hard to make the landing as smooth as he can. He only stumbles forward a half step, arms around her child protectively in case he fell. 

Trixie is squirming in her excitement, making it harder for Lucifer to unstrap her. Chloe laughs and helps and then her daughter is in her arms, chattering a mile a minute about flying. 

“You've got to try it, Mom!” Trixie says. 

Lucifer's head jerks up from where he's undoing his own straps and buckles, eyes startled. Having seen Trixie enjoy it so much, she might give it a try. Chloe turns a warm gaze on Lucifer. “Maybe another time, baby. It's starting to get dark. Besides, your daddy is going to be here any minute for you.” 

Dan’s half an hour late, but he'd texted to let her know and got there as quick as he could. The end result is a Trixie that's halfway to being asleep, tuckered out by all the excitement. Dan looks like he wants to voice a question when Chloe makes no move to appear like she's leaving Lucifer's apartment any time soon. Then he seems to think better of it, hefts Trixie in his arms, and wishes her a good night. 

She returns it and waves goodbye to Trixie until the elevator doors close. She settles down to curl up on Lucifer's ridiculously comfortable couch. Chloe idly turns the pages of her novel while Lucifer plays the piano quietly not too far away. The both of them simply enjoying each other's company. 

She's a few chapters in when his piano playing falters and he hisses. Chloe glances up from her book to see him roll his shoulders forward, trying to stretch the muscles of his back. 

“You okay?” she asks from her spot on the couch. 

“Cramp,” he explains, twisting awkwardly an effort to relieve the pain. 

She sets her book down. “Does piano playing normally -”

“It’s not the piano, it’s the _flying_ ,” he says. “I haven’t flown since I sliced them off, and rarely before that. I’m sorely out of practice. Emphasis on sore.” He reaches back to try and ease the strain, but only appears to make it worse in the struggle. 

“You could have said something, you didn’t have to take Trixie flying,” Chloe says getting to her feet and walking over. He stops trying to get at the cramp himself and apparently elects to ignores it. 

“A deal is a deal, Detective.” His fingers rest on the keys, but he has yet to begin to play again, the line of his spine pulled tight. 

Chloe’s brow furrows. “You were up there with her for _hours_ , Lucifer.” 

“Yes, well, I do enjoy the _flight_ , just not what comes after,” he grumbles. 

She lays a hand on his shoulder, presses her thumb in. He makes a low, pleased sound. “Do you...well...” She falters. Lucifer’s eyes open to gaze up at her. “I mean, I could give you a massage?” she offers. 

He goes still. He takes just long enough to respond that she’s started to get anxious, on the cusp of taking it back and apologizing when he finally speaks. “That...that would be nice. Thank you, Chloe.” 

“Oh. Well, good.” They stare at each other for a moment. “Where should we do this?” 

He considers. “The bedroom is probably best.” He stands and her view gets blocked by the back in question. 

This is new territory for them, and he doesn't look at her as he strides to the bedroom. She trails after him. 

“There should be lotion or something you can use in the drawer,” he tells her as he unbuttons his shirt. 

Chloe goes around to the side of the bed and opens the drawer he pointed out. She has to dig through condom packets and bottles of lube, but sure enough, she unearths a bottle of almond oil. Perfect. She turns and he looks back at her, uncertain. Deciding to display more confidence than she feels, she blows out a quick breath and nods to the bed. 

“On your stomach,” she directs. 

He clambers on the bed, still somehow graceful. There's a whump of air as he spreads out over the dark sheets, tucking a pillow under his neck. 

She slicks her hands up and then carefully touches him. “Alright?” she asks and he hums an affirmative, but he seems like he's holding himself tight. 

She wonders if he ever has had something like this, someone touching him in this way; intimate but not sexual. She rubs the oil along his back from where she stands, feels the way the muscles bunch up and where they lie smooth. 

Her motions are aimless, circling strokes, letting him have time to get used to it. After a few minutes spent doing nothing more than that he's sunk deeper into the bed, the lines of his face have faded. His limbs sprawl, limp and languid. She works at the tightness at the base of his neck, pushing little swirling patterns into them until they ease under her ministrations. 

“This isn’t going to work,” she mutters to herself. She can’t get the right angle to really dig into those knots under his shoulder blades. 

“Hm?” Lucifer hums muzzily. “Do whatever you like, darling,” he replies and waves a loose hand about. 

His eyes open in surprise when the mattress dips and she swings a leg over his waist, straddling him. He’s about to say something, his lungs expand, but it’s right as Chloe digs her thumbs into the meat where his neck and shoulder connect. A noise that's almost a whimper emanates from below her and she can't help but smile. She runs soothing strokes of pressure from neck to the base of his spine to relax him. Then she dives into the hard knots nestled under his skin. 

She falls into a pattern. Ruthlessly work out the kinks and then switch to comforting touches. His breath catches when she works her knuckles into a spot near his shoulder blade, so she focuses there until the tough knot works free. Then she returns to gentle touches, spanning out to his ribs. He flinches wildly, almost unseating her. 

“Sorry,” he says, “Ticklish.”

She laughs and places her palms flat against the small of his back to settle her weight more securely, legs tight against his hips. He’s abruptly tense underneath her. 

“Relax,” she chides, pushing a rolling pattern up his back. He slowly, very slowly loosens once more. “That's it,” she praises, dragging fingertips down his back, careful not to catch him with her nails. 

He groans and his wings erupt into existence. They're lifted high, as if to flap, before they sag to the ground, lying like limp, heavy curtains off the sides of the bed. It’s altered the anatomy of his back, tough, corded musculature connecting in strange ways. 

“You okay?” she asks, startled by the wings sudden appearance. He hums and nods, cheek mushed into his pillow. 

“Feels nice,” he murmurs. 

She lays her hands against his skin, careful. The surface shivers, as if to shoo a fly, but then settles. There's a heavy slab of muscle below his shoulder blades now, changing the shape of his back. She presses fingers cautiously where the wings flow near seamless into his spine. She's rewarded with a deep rumble from Lucifer. He twitches when she skates over a gnarl. She decides to continue on, digging thumbs into flight muscles and soft, downy feathers. Their creamy white color contrasts beautifully against Lucifer’s golden warm skin.

The feathers fluff up at random moments and slick back down. It all seems subconscious, since Lucifer is almost completely immobile under her. The down feathers darken slightly with the oil, absorbing what had been on her hands, until she can’t run along his skin without friction. 

She hooks a foot under his shin and braces a hand near his wing. The distance forces her to lean over him to reach for the bottle of oil left on the nightstand. Her fingers are slippery, so she rocks her weight forward. She hears him gasp, but is too focused on trying to grip slick plastic to really register it. Repeating the motion grants her success, fingers closing around the bottle. 

Abruptly, he shifts underneath her. She half falls backward, her hand sinking into feathers to try and catch herself. He pants, open mouthed, his wings fluffed up and spread out before her. 

“Lucifer?” she asks, concerned. 

“I - I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says, voice shaky. He starts to push off the mattress, despite her still sitting on him. She grabs at his wings instinctually, trying not to fall. He moans, fingers twisting in the sheets, and goes utterly still under her. 

Oh. 

She doesn't know what to do. She can't see his face, only the ripple of muscles as he shifts. Both of them are caught on the brink of something more, half terrified of pursuing it. It feels like freefall. Maybe that's why she intentionally drags her fingers through his wings. It sets him trembling. 

“ _Chloe_ ,” he says, desperate. 

“Is this okay?” she asks, skating hands over the glossy outsides of his wings, trailing the edges of feathers. “Can I...?”

“Yes,” he replies, strangled. She shoves her hands past the outer layer, till she finds warm skin. It’s not smooth, but it’s warm, feather shafts bumping up against her fingers. He shudders, breathing heavy. The tenseness in his arms starts to slacken, bringing them both back down to the bed.

Heat flickers low in her belly. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but following along with her instincts has been working so far. “That’s it, Lucifer, just like that,” she commends, the words feeling right on her tongue. Her touch doesn't falter, spreading between feathers. Because she wants to, she grinds down against him, against the curve of his ass, making herself gasp. He whines in response, hips pushing against the bed.

She inhales carefully, blood rushing loud in her ears. She sets aside her desire and chooses to explore him, instead. She listens to how his breathing changes, what makes him twist and move restlessly. 

He seems the most sensitive where his wings meet the rest of him, where short, downy feathers give way to long, thin ones that drape down his back. She strokes there and he keens, high and sharp. His feathers are wet with oil and Chloe realizes it can’t all be from what she’d put on her hands. Pressing probing fingers there curiously, she bumps against something that makes Lucifer jolt like he’s been shocked, a noise torn from his throat that sounds almost pained.

It sends arousal sliding down her belly, throbbing low and instant. “Easy, I've got you,” she assures, running slippery hands down his sides. He presses his face to the sheets, eyes shut tight. 

“Do that again, _please_ ,” he says, just on the edge of begging. Lucifer ruts almost helplessly against the sheets, seeking any kind of friction. 

Chloe leans forward and places a soft kiss to the back of his neck. She buries her fingers in saturated feathers, finding that spot and rubbing until he cries out. She turns and repeats it on his other wing, leaving him soaked and shaking. His movements grow frantic, thrusting into the sheets wildly, almost bucking her off. She digs into sodden feathers and he comes with a hoarse shout, wings thrashing. 

God, it's almost enough to take her over the edge herself, but she's not quite there yet. Her focus narrows to her own release. She shoves a hand down the front of her pants to rub frantically. Her head falls back as pleasure crests and crests and _crests_ \- then crashes over her. 

There's a moment of quiet filled only with their loud breathing. Lucifer shifts and groans, his wings making it difficult for him to roll over. She lifts off of him and he manages it, though she almost gets a wing to the face. He settles on his back, wings half spread under him, looking utterly debauched. 

Chloe stares at Lucifer for a moment. His own stunned expression mirrors hers, both of them astonished at what they had just done. 

“Did we just...” he begins, voice like gravel. 

“Yeah,” she replies, bewildered. Amusement starts to bubble up in her and a smile begins to widen on her face. Then they're both laughing, overwhelmed and giddy with it. 

He leans forward and kisses her, mouth impossibly soft, hands gentle on the sides of her face. She laughs again, and he grins. They've gone about this all backwards, but that, in a way, seems very _them_. 

He glances down at the state of his lap and winces. Her own hands are sticky with oil. He looks up and raises one dark brow, mischievous. 

“Shower?” he suggests. She darts forward to kiss him again. 

“Shower,” she confirms, and pulls him to his feet. 


End file.
